Black Rider
by Dakudoragon'naito87
Summary: We all know how the legend of Eragon Shadeslayer ended. Yet what if the young farmboy was not the only Rider free of Galbatorix's control? Join us as we trace the legend and tale of the Black Rider, a man forced into a war and a world not his own, as he must now stand as one of the final bastions against the Mad King. This is the legend of how he changed Alagaësia forever.
1. Chapter 1

A wind howls through the darkened street, as animals of the night make their rounds; searching for food and shelter to last them through the winter months. Snow blankets the ground in a thin sheet, undisturbed by the locals who all sleep the night away assured that the guards will defend them from all that go bump during the night. The village of Carvahall lies within Palancar Valley, shrouded in the ominous sight of the Spine Mountains. The Anora River flows a few miles to the east, its water the main source for the small yet peaceful village.

A lone figure stood in silence, shrouded within the shadows of the trees. Great tall oaks and birches overlooking the village near the base of the mountain shrouded in falling snow and the blackness of winter night. His face is partially hidden from view, covered by the shadows of the hood drawn over his head; his eyes hidden from the world. The shadows part ever so slightly, leaving his nose and mouth as the only clear features seen. The faintest hint of bright orange hair rests upon his head, the front bangs spiked and shaggy as they flow in the harsh winter wind splashed upon by moonlight.

Like a gentle caress, it moves the bangs from his eyes as the shadows break; revealing the sharp brown irises hidden from the world. His black and grey cloak billows in the harsh winds, seemingly unaffected by the chill in the air. Each breath even and steady as the haze created drifts away into the dark forest. He lifts his head slowly, raking their all-knowing gaze across the entirety of the village. He crosses his arms, once hidden by the folds of his cloak; with the light of the moon flashing upon bracers of silver and black. Fine leather gloves coloured black and trimmed in dark sapphire cover his hands, the upper portions of the fingers cut to rest solely atop the knuckle. A sudden harsh blast of frigid winter air sends the cloak flying behind him, his body now exposed to the night.

Robes, black as pitch laid to rest underneath a blacked metal and leather cuirass that reaches from his neck to his hips. A pair of leather and metal inlaid greaves covers the man's legs and black pants from ankle to knee, a comfortable pair of leather boots attached at the bottom.

The sheath of a great two-handed double edged blade can be seen strapped across his back; the scabbard stylised with vines and the image of a crescent moon, made from steel and black hardwood. The hilt is based on a simple cross like design, with a section formed into a grip formed from black hardwood and metal. With the remainder being a section of solid, unmarked steel coloured black as night. The pommel is designed to end in a rounded crescent like shape, attached to a flared section of the hilt with a black diamond held within the small gap between the bottom of the hilt and pommel cap. A link of black chain hangs from the base of the pommel, the final section broken and dancing in the wind. The hilt of a small blade can be seen belted alongside; the weapons sheathe the size of the man's forearm. The hilt is made of fine hardwood bound in wraps of grey cloth, the pommel shaped like a teardrop and forged of black steel; with the cross guard fashioned similar to that of the sword, only curved upward.

He smirks lightly as the cloak falls to rest behind his shoulders and leaves his body revealed to cool in the night air. A chuckle escapes him as his eyes flash a bright blue as a great presence sweeps across the land, all under its touch stilling for a single moment. Satisfied, the young man turns sharply on his heels and moves through the ankle deep snow; heading ever closer towards the dense trees. Then, in a burst of flashing wind the figure vanishes from sight; the snow unmarked where he once stood as if he had never been there at all.

Meanwhile, across the land divided by tyranny and war; fear grows in the heart of the capital. Deep within the bowels of the great citadel, held in the center of the black city at the heart of the Empire; the tyrant king rages within its walls. Fear begins to seep and claw at his heart; its grip one of iron and ice. So great is his anger, the power he wields lashes out beyond all control; warping stone and quaking earth as he tries to regain himself. His dragon, a great mass of flesh and bone coloured black as the deepest pits; keens into the night. Rage and sorrow colour the resounding roars and wails, as the creature mourns the terrible… or, perhaps fortunate discovery.

The fourth egg, the sacred remnant of the Black King's rise and his most treasured possession and yet greatest secret has been lost to him. The very egg that contained within it the child of Shruikan, his mighty dragon and eternal companion… Has vanished without a trace. Terror clutched at the tyrants heart anew; its icy grip searing and burning his very veins from the inside out. For the first time in centuries…Galbatorix has at last felt the pull of his own mortality once again.

For now two eggs were lost, scattered into the winds of this decrepit land he named as his own. Each a potential rival to his reign and a threat to him, should anyone discover the source of his strength. Yet in the King's twisted mind, both dragons and riders ready to aid the Varden in their quest to avenge their slaughtered kin and dethrone him.

This singular event… This one choice will lead a man whose life was shrouded in war, into one last battle. For the very freedom of the land he now calls his home and its people. But he is not our only hero of legend. For the war will temper a young farm boy into a warrior of great power and strength, as he stumbles along the path now lain out before him.

And as our two heroes paths collide, they are thrust into a war that will decide the fate of this land. The tales of the Black Rider and the Shadeslayer will usher in a new time of peace. And give hope to the Varden in their most desperate hour.

The Dragon Riders have come again. And they seek to right the wrongs of the past.

We now turn to one of our hero's. Eighteen year-old Ichigo Kurosaki flashed through the darkened forest doting the sides of the Spine Mountains; each step covering miles in moments. His mind was abuzz with the knowledge that his plan had seemingly worked correctly as he recalled the slight drop in his reiatsu nearly an hour ago. Ichigo was rather surprised that his plan worked flawlessly; the decoy stone he had left in place of the real one having dissipated into reishi just as intended.

'_Thank god Kisuke taught me the doppelganger Kido he created, or this would have been a pain in the ass to do,'_ Ichigo thought to himself, jumping for the last tree and pushing off and rushing toward the earth with the barest of sound. He drew back his hood, revealing his face to the world. Skin free of scars and noticeable blemishes the colour of peach, with hard dark brown eyes drawn into a perpetual and seemingly permanent scowl. Angular plane like features belonging to one used to a life of constant physical activity, or in the world our hero currently found himself in…war.

The crunch of packed snow under his boots calmed the warrior somewhat as he walked into a small clearing. Ichigo smirked at seeing the little dwelling he had managed to fix up some months ago. It had taken a lot of cursing and hard work… but in the end Ichigo had managed to use some random bits of carpentry he remembered from helping fix his old house when him and Goat Chin got a little out of hand to get the small cabin/cottage into decent shape.

After giving the small cabin a quick once over to ensure it was as he left it; Ichigo moved to the front door. The snow he noticed finally beginning to shallow out the closer to the cabin he got. Wooden steps, bathed in light snow groaned underfoot as Ichigo kicked of the excess gathered on his boots and armor; leather boots thumping against solid oak. Placing his right hand upon the brass knocker, Ichigo flooded some reiatsu into the handle. A resounding click reached his ears, as Ichigo carefully opened the door; revealing the darkened room within. Moving to the fireplace near the far wall, from mere muscle memory at this point Ichigo cast a quick Shakkaho; its flames igniting the log placed within. Warmth soon spread through the house as the fire grew in strength, the soft crackle a soothing sound to the young man as he walked inside. Ichigo moved towards his room, lost in his thoughts as he discarded the cloak atop a worn wooden chair placed near his bedroom door.

Ichigo began to recall when he had first found himself in this world only eight short months ago, striding across his room to deposit the armor on the stand he had bought from Horst a few weeks ago. Ichigo had woken up lying flat on his back outside the gates of a large and heavily fortified stone city. To say he had been utterly confused upon seeing the structure and lack of anything he associated with the modern age was a HUGE understatement. A wry chuckle escaped his lips after he laid the last of the armor and his weapons down, exiting the room to then sit in a single chair facing the fire, lost in thought.

After years of dealing with the supernatural his arrival was the least surprising thing he had dealt with so far. So our hero had merely scratched his head and shrugged at that point, seriously having gotten use to this type of thing.

This honestly wasn't the weirdest thing to happen to him, and Ichigo sincerely doubted it would be the last. However his curiosity had been peaked. Here he was in a new and strange world, one that had nothing of the world he knew. Perhaps it would not be so bad to check it out first, before making any solid assumptions of what he would find here. Besides he had nothing left for him in Karakura. No job, his friends had all gone to different parts of the country to study abroad and his family was secure with Karin taking over for him. He had no real purpose in Karakura town anymore.

So his path decided, Ichigo flashed towards the great gate, stopping upon seeing the guards. Here he grew cautious, unknowing if they would be able to see him in his spiritual form. Lessons from Yoruichi flashing through his mind however, made the decision for him.

Moving to stand behind a small caravan parked about twenty meters from the guards; Ichigo scanned the area quickly with his eyes gaining a slight blue tint from the reiatsu he was coursing through them. Satisfied he was not seen, Ichigo crouched and then with a push vanished in a burst of static. He landed directly above the walls along the catwalk to avoid the guards stationed below at the gate. Glancing down over the inner portion of the wall, Ichigo waited for a beat, watching out of the corner of his eye a small patrol walking in formation. Something that sent alarm bells off in his head as they did. Narrowing his eyes, Ichigo watched them leave a question echoing in his mind.

'_What kind of place needs such heavily armed patrols?' _the cloaked warrior thought hurriedly as he watched them begin to move beyond the few houses he could see.

Once Ichigo was certain they were gone and not making a return trip, he hauled himself up and then stepped off the catwalk, falling towards the stone ground below.

The wind whistling in his ears as his grey cloak flapped about him, Ichigo waited in silence. Landing hard, knees braced for the impact Ichigo bolted forwards; diving into an alley once he was far from the wall. Leaning forward, Ichigo scanned the cobblestone roads utterly devoid of life. However, Ichigo wasn't so easily fooled. His sensing abilities were almost unmatched and he could feel every living thing within these walls. As he made to step out into the street, a burst of power erupted deeper near the core of the city. Ichigo's head spun around as he stared intently in the direction it had come from.

"What the hell?" Ichigo muttered quietly as he turned and drew up his hood hiding his face in shadow. His boots made the barest of noise upon the stone beneath his feet as he strode along the empty or sparsely populated streets and alley ways.

Soon however, after around twenty minutes of wandering Ichigo finally felt the latent spirit energy that bathed the inner city. It was rich and potent; something that only brought forth more questions than answers.

'_There shouldn't be any reishi or reiatsu here at all,' _our hero reasoned as he ensured that Zangetsu was well hidden from sight_ 'unless this is another dimension under the Spirit King's domain,' _he theorised as he delved deeper into the streets of this ancient styled city.

The only thing he had to go off of was that, while there was not as much reiatsu or reishi as there was in Hueco Mundo or Soul Society and not even a fraction of what he had been exposed to in the Royal Realm; the amount was still more than Karakura Town had ever been. Focusing his senses Ichigo noted how only very few of the people within the city immediately in range of his powers actually possessed any reiryoku at all. This unsettled Ichigo since the only sure-fire way he knew for people to possess reiryoku was to encounter something of the supernatural world.

'_Doesn't matter now anyway,' _the young man mused as he made his way closer to the largest signature directly in the center of the city. _'At least Hat n' Clogs ain't trying to dissect and experiment on everything he'd see,' _Ichigo thought of his old mentor with a grin; the image of a tall and lightly blond haired man with a green and white striped bucket hat laughed and hid his face with a folding fan flashing through his mind.

Ichigo actually didn't know which would have been worse. Being stuck in a different dimension by himself…or being stuck with Kisuke in a strange world for an undetermined amount of time. Ichigo at the thought stopped dead in the street, felt his left eye twitch for a second then sighed while shaking his head before continuing on his way. He'd rather have a heart to heart with Goat Chin then have Kisuke as his only companion. That morbid thought now forgotten, Ichigo dashed forward and towards the Citadel, unaware of the path his life would soon take.

After he departed from the capital of the strange land he now found himself in; Ichigo travelled north for two weeks and eventually found himself on the outskirts of the village known as Carvahall. It was here that he learned through the tales of the local storyteller; an old man named Brom the history of this strange land. He learned and found himself intrigued by the tales of the Riders and their famed fall at the hands of one of their own.

Ichigo honestly didn't know what to feel as he mulled over the conversations that seemed to have happened a life time ago. A part of him pitied Galbatorix for having been rebuked his second chance and the loss of his closest companion.

Yet another, far stronger part of the young man felt angered and sickened by what Galbatorix had done. Rather than try to survive and move on, Galbatorix had let himself be consumed by hatred and revenge. Seeking to destroy the very people he served at having wronged him, so long ago. Ichigo gazed into the flames and sighed. Pushing himself to his feet, Ichigo then walked towards the cabin's solitary window to gaze out into the night skies. He had chosen his path long ago, and he wasn't about to stray from it now.

'_This may not be my home, but in time… I think it can be,'_ he thought with a light smile as the moon sank beneath the treeline and the Spine was shrouded in darkness. Ichigo felts his hands clenched into fists and felt determination burn hot in his veins. He would not let this land fall to darkness, not when he had the power to prevent it. For that is what a protector does. Defend those that cannot protect themselves.

It helped then, that he wasn't alone. Ichigo smirked as he saw a great shape appear over the trees. Large as two war horse from front to back and black as night, the great beast dove towards the ground and landed with a great bang. The earth itself shook and rumbled like a great beast as the snow laden earth cratered under the creature's weight. Soon it stood tall, scales black as obsidian with an armored cream underbelly; each scale hard as diamond. Ichigo gazed upon the magnificent sight before him and marveled at the deadly grace and power the creature seemed to give off as if it were second nature. He studied the beast in detail and could not help but be reminded how very real the creature siting before him was.

Overlapping scales that appeared to rest over each other ran along the center of the dragon's body from the tip of its nose to the end of its long and muscular tail; which was as thick as a tree trunk at the hide. These scale like spines the same colour as its scales; pitch black and absorbing the light itself.

Great wings stretched out nearly forty feet across, the thin blood red membrane in between the hollow yet strong bones, taut and bright under the moonlight. Scales sharp as fine steel covered the uppermost bones and ran down to connect at the shoulder blade; the large coil of muscles underneath flexing in anticipation and adrenaline.

A broad chest overlain by liquid steel bands of muscle flexed under the protective hide and scale as the beast rose to an impressive height of twenty five hands at only a few months. A large and heavily built torso connected to four muscular legs; its five toed feet with talons sharp enough to gouge solid stone clawed and dug into the earth as it steadied itself.

The neck itself, while not very long in regards to the rest of some of its limbs; was layered by muscle as it reared around and stared at Ichigo through the window. Said neck held aloft a large and powerful jaw and skull; with a squared and armored snout, razor sharp teeth nearly a half foot long within. Yet Ichigo focused on the two areas directly above the eye, where twin lances of bone grew facing back only the length of his forearm.

The dragon raised its head high and opened its gaping jaws and roared. The sound shook the trees and rattled the earth. Deep and proud, it echoed all around the clearing and through the Spine Mountains, every beast and living creature feeling an instinctual need to run and hide at the sound. And from its mouth, gouts of pitch black flame bathed the skies, the edges trimmed in darkest blue as the snow began to melt from the heat. And Ichigo knew if they were to be face to face he would stare into a cat like eye colored the darkest amber, surrounded by black sclera that shone with untold wisdom and strength.

Ichigo smiled as he laughed at the dragon's display; the great beast then moving along the snow trodden earth to swiftly lay atop the ground, its head now resting comfortably on its forelegs by the window. Ichigo felt a gentle touch, like a soft wind against his mind and he opened to it; welcoming the reassuring and everlasting presence of his new partner.

'_About time you got back, you've been gone for three days,'_ Ichigo said as he sat back and waited for the dragon to settle. The young Soul Reaper's mind racing back to the night the stone he had stolen hatched in the middle of the night and out came a dragon no bigger than a tabby cat.

The dragon snorted with a growl, black smoke drifting from its nostrils into the winter air. In a distinctly adolescent move, the dragon rolled its eyes as it stared at him. Tilting its head, Ichigo felt the first signs of fatigue cross through the bond as the dragon seemed quite eager for sleep. Yet a defiance to finish and speak drove the dragon onward it seemed as it locked eyes with Ichigo. A voice echoed in the young man's mind, trilled by a fair alto base, with a small deep timbre that echoed behind it.

'_You worry far too much,'_ the dragon said accusingly, annoyance clear in his tone._ 'Nothing within these mountains is a match for a son-of-the-skies'_ he proclaimed with pride as the dragon's eyes shone with confidence and a fierce fire Ichigo had seen in his own eyes many a time during his time among the Soul Reapers. However, that alone didn't excuse the overall dismissal of Ichigo's concern for the dragon.

Ichigo sighed as he leaned back and rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he spoke to his dragon. '_You are to overconfident,' _Ichigo scolded, his eyes opening and setting into a scowl as he lowered his hand to rest on his thigh and glared half-heartedly at the large amber eye staring back.

'_And if I have to kick your sorry ass to make you get rid of that fat head then by all means continue Verndari,'_ the orange haired man promised with a hard glare; brown eyes set in a flinty expression as his tone showed his confidence and annoyance with the dragon's almost flippant attitude.

A challenge the dragon was all too eager to meet as he growled deep in his chest, the cabin actually beginning to shake from the sound alone.

'_Is that so little one?' _Verndari asked, his eyes staring at Ichigo's unblinking waiting to see which would break the stalemate first.

'_You're damn right about that,' _Ichigo said, feeling a small smirk cross his lips as he leaned back and laced his hands behind his head._ 'You may be a dragon, but I have fought things far stronger than you Verndari, remember that,' _Ichigo said with a light smirk as he felt his own body begin to succumb to fatigue. He wouldn't get the chance however as Verndari gave a short snort of flame and sent deep amusement through their bond to his Rider.

'_Now who has the fat head,'_ Verndari teased with a rumbling laugh, one that Ichigo only scoffed at in annoyance and turned his head to the side. The light grin that he currently bore however betrayed him as he burst into laughter. The two continued for a time until their very sides grew sore and as Ichigo released a shaky breath and closed his eyes to let the last feelings of joy pass from the bond.

Ichigo felt his body go slack and nearly slid out of the chair then, memories and emotions swirling within as the image of an auburn haired woman echoed in his mind, alongside her dark stormy grey eyes and heart stopping smile.

Verndari felt the inner turmoil of his partner-in-heart-and-mind as he to saw the unnamed woman who had carved a large portion of Ichigo's soul for her own. Verndari released a shrill keen then, eyes all-knowing as they locked with his little one.

'_You miss your mate don't you?'_ the dragon asked gently, his amber eyes focused solely on Ichigo who soon righted himself and sighed, eyes riveted to the wooden floor. The young Rider clasped his hands together and leaned upon his arm propped on his thighs.

The newest Rider's voice was barely a whisper, not a trace of the proud and powerful warrior Verndari knew him to be to be found. "I miss her more than I could possibly imagine Verndari," he said aloud, bangs shadowing his eyes as his fists clenched so hard the knuckles went white as the snow. "And I fear I may never get the chance to see her again." He admitted softly.

'_Have faith little one,'_ the dragon soothed as sleep finally took both Rider and Dragon under his wings. A great yawn escaped the pair as Ichigo let his head fall to rest propped on the back of the chair. His final conscious moments being Verndari's words bringing a smile to his lips as the hero of two wars succumbed to rest at last.

'_You will see her again, I know it.'_

Unknowing to the two, a shadowy being watched from afar; eyes black as the void twinkling in mirth and triumph as all had finally begun to go according to plan. He chuckled at last as he knew the legend of the Black Rider would spread across all of Alagaësia. One of many worlds to feel his influence after so long.

A man shrouded in myth, one who will become legend through time immemorial. A tale spread across the lands of a great warrior, one who knew not the meaning of surrender or fear. A man who fought to defend the people from the darkness that sought to destroy them.

The legend of the Black Rider has only just begun. But the Rider will not battle alone in these dark times. For this is not a burden to be carried by a single man. He will share this great burden with a man he will one day call brother as they fight together to return the Riders to prominence. With a final glance back the figure vanished in a cloud of black.

While in the shadows of the trees, a figure stands, a wry grin all that can be seen in the moonlight streaming through mountain growth.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Carvahall within a small farm, a boy of fifteen lays awake in his bed as the snow continues to fall. Brown eyes stare unblinking out the bedroom window at the shadows cast by the Spine on the horizon. The boy feels a sense of excitement pass through him as a giddiness settles in his gut. The boy had shaggy and bedraggled brown hair that fell to rest over his eyes. Gently and quiet as he could the boy shifted the warm furs to stand in the cold room. He was of average height, perhaps five foot eight, a dark tan from working the fields through the summer month's only beginning to fade.

His face still retaining slight amounts of baby fat, and limbs lean from working the farm, just beginning to show signs of definition.

The boy yawns and scratches his head drearily as he moves about the room, dressing in a worn leather tunic and breeches. His sharp eyes darting around the room to find something in particular, soon lighting in triumph as they land upon the yew bow propped against his wall. An odd feeling, akin to a brush ran along the base of his neck and the boy stopped cold, sweat beading his brow in a panic. He turns sharply, focusing his attention upon the large blue stone he had found a few weeks before the snow had begun to fall.

This was Eragon, Son of None. A boy left to live with his Aunt and Uncle as a baby by his mother before her death. He had grown up happy and healthy on the farm, working alongside his cousin, Roran. But he is no simple farm boy. For Eragon will become the central guide in shaping the destiny of Alagaësia, as fate sets in motion events that will unite the two hero's and allow one boy to fulfill his destiny.

To restore the Dragon Riders... And bring down Galbatorix to free Alagaësia. Eragon watched warily as the stone in fact began to shake and wobble. The constant knock of the hard material against the wooden wall, echoed in Eragon's head like a drum as he shot to his feet and reached blindly for his hunting knife. As his hand danced around wildly, Eragon never tore his gaze from the now visibly and rather loudly shaking stone as it then pitched forward.

Eragon watched in silent fascination as the stone, more so he didn't know what to call it now, slam to the floor and then lay still. His breathing evened out and his heart slowed to a moderate beat, his fingers finally latching onto the hilt of his knife. Eragon crouched low, twisting the knife to rest with the flat spine of the blade against his forearm in a reverse grip, eyeing the stone for any movement.

So it came as no surprise that the young boy jumped nearly a full foot as the stone gave a great lurch, cracks covering its surface.

'_What in the name of the gods is this?' _he thought worriedly, locks of brown hair falling to cover his left eye as sweat beaded his brow. Eragon knew he should run, run and find his Uncle and maybe have him alert the local garrison. Eragon in fact moved to do just that, his eyes now narrowed in determined focus and his action decided.

Yet, as the boy prepared to move for the door, something stayed his hand… A feeling of darkness and danger held him fast to the bed. Eragon knew then in that moment that he couldn't do it. The boy didn't know how, only that turning his discovery over to the garrison would lead to terrible things.

A small squeak echoed in the silent din of his room then, snapping the boy away from dark dreams and terrible thoughts as he looked down at the stone.

'_No,' _he suddenly realized with wide eyes and untamed surprise and awe. _"Not a stone, an egg." _Those last few words echoed through the farm boy's mind as, with a great cry of triumph a small figure burst from the nigh unbreakable shell that had been its home. Eragon collapsed to his knees in shock, the knife falling form limp fingers to clatter on the floor and roll to rest near his foot. His mouth dropped and his mind stopped all thought and process as the small figure worked at licking the sinew and scales clean.

For sitting before Eragon, colored as dark as freshly cut sapphire… Lay a baby dragon.

The dragon was no longer than Eragon's forearm, yet it held a presence of nobility, dignity, and strength even for one so small. Its scales appeared sharp as razor's and were colored an iridescent sapphire blue, shifting in shade the further along the body as Eragon's eyes traced every feature of the young dragon. Eragon started as it unfurled its wings, the appendages having given it an oddly angled shape. Unfurled, they were several times longer than its body and Eragon noticed the ribbed like pattern from the thin fingers of bone that extended from the wings front edge, forming a line of widely spaced talons.

Small ivory spines lined the babies back, with Eragon noting a slightly too large space at the spine at the base of the neck and shoulders. _'Big enough for a saddle once it grows,' _he thought suddenly, his mouth having run dry at what this meant for him. He had heard all of Brom's tales in regards to the legends. Warriors astride mighty dragon's who kept the peace of Alagaësia.

The Dragon Riders.

Eragon felt numb as he stared at the baby dragon, all the fine details etching into his mind. A small triangular head, long neck and tail with a mouth full of sharp pointed teeth. And finally, the cat-like ice-blue eyes, holding an inherent wisdom within as they regarded the young boy. Eragon swore to this day that in that moment he saw both intelligence and pride shine in those eyes the instant they met. It approached him on unsteady feet, looking down once every few steps to keep its footing. It drew ever closer and Eragon watched as his hand moved on its own, coming to rest on the dragon's flank.

A bright light shined forth from the palm of his hand as Eragon fell back, frozen liquid fire coursing through his veins as an icy numbness settled in his bones and tempered his body. And for the fleetest moment Eragon knew that his life would never be the same again.

While across the land, something had come to this hopeless land. The world… had been changed. Yet only three knew of what had come to pass. Two within the Palancar Valley, and another deep within the forests of Ellesméra. Each in a moment of unified action opened their eyes, and intoned as one.

"There is another."

Eragon woke with a groan, his head hammering as if beat upon by a thousand hammers as a he laid his left hand across his eyes to drown away the damnable sunlight. As the young boy slowly tried to sit up with the memories of last night being fraught with foggy images, a warmth and indignant squeak made his grogginess vanish.

Bolting upright from the hard floor Eragon scrambled backwards to press his back against the wall; brown eyes wide in shock as the dragon, having fallen onto its back righted itself. It shook its head and squawked, its cat-like eyes looking around until they finally rested upon Eragon. A gentle pressure, akin to someone poking the back of his head flared within Eragon's mind; emotions and images flashing before his eyes in an instant. Eragon scowled as he smacked the back of his head, only to feel nothing in contact with his head.

Eragon then moved his hand, a silvery glow catching his eye. Eragon immediately glanced at the image now scarring its surface. An odd symbol like a diffused oval. He then looked at the dragon and thought only one thing.

'_What in the name of the gods did I get myself into?'_

Weeks passed in relative silence and peace, with Eragon travelling each day to a small tree from which hung a leather hut he had built for his dragon. Eragon had also spent these last weeks' frantically searching for any information and lore he could acquire on dragons. Yet he also feared that should anyone learn of his new charge, the King himself would be pressed to assault Carvahall, to add Eragon to his ranks. Something Eragon knew would only spell doom to his village and friends. The dragon itself, for Eragon still had yet to discover its gender, had now moved to the Spine; ranging along the northern ridges and bluffs of the range. Each day the young boy sought to find the courage to tell his Uncle and cousin the truth as to his recent increase in time spent outside the farm, yet each day Eragon drove it from his mind, resolved to do it the next day. Yet soon these days turned into weeks, the passing marred by Roran's departure to make enough money to ask his love Katrina for her hand in marriage. It was with great shame that Eragon would look upon those moments' years later and wish to knock some sense and urgency into the foolish boy he had once been.

Meanwhile, deep in the forests Ichigo awoke with nary a sound, brown eyes sharp and clear as he moved to sit upright; cracking his neck to a corresponding set of pops. He groaned in relief as he stretched out his arms, moving the covers aside to reveal himself naked from the waist up. Spinning around he felt his bare feet rest on freezing oak that nearly made him jump.

It was only a moment later that Ichigo realised he was in his room and not currently folded up in the wooden chair the next room over he had found himself in last night after training with Verndari late into the night. He blinked owlishly then, now hearing the sound of a crackling fire. His eyes narrowed as he used Shunpo to cross the room, back flat against the wall and near the seam of the door. Ichigo willed the smaller blade of his Zanpakuto to him, the leaf shaped blade black as night with a small fuller along the spine of the blade to end just three inches from the tip.

However, Ichigo soon realised that Verndari hadn't tried contacting him at all, which to Ichigo meant one of two things. Either Verndari was incapacitated by the stranger, and was trying to break free. Or… Verndari trusted the stranger enough to not tell Ichigo. And judging by the lack of sound outside, Ichigo was willing to bet on option two. However battle and war had taught him to never let his guard down. Should the stranger prove hostile? Ichigo knew what he had to do if it meant protecting Carvahall and Verndari.

He quietly sheathed the blade and willed it to disperse into reishi as he moved and opened the door slowly, surprise dominating his features as he saw just who had paid him a visit.

"Brom?" Ichigo asked as the now named storyteller stopped mid-motion of placing another log upon the growing fire. Brom then gently set it upon the pile, kneeling before the flames and the flicker of orange illuminating his features. Brom was an aged man with silver hair trimmed fairly short and bright blue eyes. He also had a neatly trimmed beard shot with patches of dark brown to give Brom a deceptively younger appearance than his other features would indicate. The storyteller stood fairly tall by the average in this world if Ichigo had to take a guess. Just shy actually, of being eye level with Ichigo who stood at six even.

Yet one thing was predominant in Ichigo's mind.

"How the hell did you get into my house!?" Ichigo yelled angrily, his face set in a deep scowl as he crossed his arms and glared angrily at the old storyteller.

Brom made nice notice of him, gently reaching into the confines of his cloak and pulling out a small wooden pipe, taking a small piece of tinder and lighting the tobacco set into the end. A hum of satisfaction sounded from Brom as he took a heavy breath, until he cast Ichigo a simple glance and said with a negligent shrug, "You left the door unlocked."

Ichigo had to resist the urge to face palm at such odd reasoning and for being an idiot and leaving the house unlocked. Yet what need did he have of doing that with a _dragon _as a guard? Ichigo only sighed, knowing he wouldn't get anything out of the old man like that, instead taking to study what Brom was actually doing.

Brom's customary staff was held in hand, the runes bathed in shadow from the light of the fire in a language Ichigo couldn't for the life of him figure out. Ichigo watched intently as Brom soon stood and swiftly turned towards Ichigo, a wry smirk on his lips. Brom gave a bow of his head and moved to the table, Ichigo now seeing the two plates of food steaming in the winter chill that had permeated the building at night.

"Regardless, it is good to see you are awake my young friend," Brom said with his voice carrying over the scrapping of the wooden chair against the floor. Brom soon with great care seated himself at the plate nearest the door laying the staff to rest against the arm of his chair and to extinguish his pipe to begin eating.

Ichigo stood dumbfounded, eyes wide as the plates currently set on the table as he looked from Brom to the door. As silence stretched on and Brom finally took note that Ichigo wasn't eating, he placed his fork down and looked at the young Dragon Rider.

"Are you going to stand there and gawk like an addle-minded fool or are you going to eat the food I spent a pretty gold coin on?" Brom demanded as his sharp eyes regarded the young man. Ichigo then took notice of Brom's other features, often hidden by the addling of ale and dim firelight. A Romanised hooked and sharp nose, lines and the shadow of time that added years to the old man. But in those sharp eyes Ichigo saw something he had only seen in one person before this. Old Man Yama.

A fire, smoldering behind the façade waiting to become the all-encompassing inferno once unleashed. Ichigo knew then that Brom despite his old age would be an enemy he would rather not have. So in light of that, Ichigo scoffed once and, scratching the back of his head moved to sit across from the old man. Brom never once shifting his gaze until Ichigo was seated and drew the plate towards him. The orange haired man picked up his fork and began scarfing down his meal, simple bacon, sausage, and eggs.

Brom waited a few seconds more until he nodded, seemingly pacified as he moved to continue his own meal.

For a few minutes the two men ate in companionable silence until, as Ichigo took another bite, glanced up and on an off handed theory projected his thoughts at Brom.

'_So are you going to talk or do I have to get Verndari to fry your ass old man?'_ he asked with his expression unchanging, set in its customary scowl as he swallowed, noting the light stiffening of Brom's form and slightly widened eyes.

Brom had stopped mid chew so then played it off as a grunt, continuing his meal until he responded in kind.

'_You seem quite adept for one so young in such obscure techniques,' _Brom remarked casually, Ichigo holding back a smirk at hearing the man's voice echo in his own mind. _"And might I ask who this Verndari you speak of is?'_ Brom questioned, his eyes looking directly at Ichigo who seemed unafraid from the man's hawk like stare. Brom's eyes soon narrowed as Ichigo leaned back and laced his hands behind his head, completely at ease despite knowing Brom had some abilities beyond mortal grasp.

"Don't play me for a fool old man,"Ichigo said as he reached out for Vahlok through the bond. "We both know that the only reason you're not dead is because my dragon didn't try and warn me about you," Ichigo continued with a scowl.

_Verndari! Where are you?! _The young rider cried, the shout echoing solely within his mind and feeling his hackles near raise at seeing a familiar glint in Brom's eyes. But Ichigo swore to this day he had only imagined it and drove on. "So talk," Ichigo ordered, "before I follow through on my promise to have Verndari fry your ass old man."

Brom for all it was worth only seemed to stare at Ichigo as if he were crazy, but the young Rider knew otherwise. He had not survived enough plans by Kisuke Urahara to fall to some old story teller. Not in this dimension or any other. So he waited, watching as Brom placed down the fork and gently pushed his plate away. Looking at Ichigo in a potential new light.

"One part brave, three parts fool if I had ever seen it," Brom said near to a growl, his eyes narrowed and shrewd. Brom raised a weathered hand wrapped in worn cloth and pointed at Ichigo, his tone akin to a teacher and student. "I suggest you mind your tongue in matters you can't begin to understand."

Ichigo felt his eyes narrow and slammed his hands atop the wooden table, the resounding crack from his strength alone, shocking Brom.

"Then how about instead of riddles and myths you speak straight for once old man!" Ichigo demanded hotly, eyes flashing a brilliant blue as he glared at the old man. His mood only aggravated from the silence from Verndari. "Just who in the hell are you?" Ichigo growled out, his hands crunching the wooden table under his fingertips.

Brom stayed silent to Ichigo's query, the young Soul Reaper's powers beginning to manifest through his anger; clamping down as much as he dared to ensure he didn't flatten Brom. Ichigo might be pissed at the old man, but he didn't want to kill him. Brom seemed more intrigued then anything, eyes taking in the light blue glow that surrounded the young Rider; eyes bathed in power and strength. Brom laced his fingers as he propped a bearded chin upon them watching the young man collect himself.

"Not what I expected from the new leader of the Riders," Brom said at last, both dodging the question in Ichigo's opinion and trying to change the subject. Leaning back Brom sighed, bringing his pipe to bear once again. The smell of cherry leaves and tobacco smoke filled the room as Brom looked intently upon the silent orange haired man. Brom puffed upon the pipe a second time, idly reaching down and grasping his staff. "Although… the fact you exist is cause for celebration enough," Brom admitted softly as he pushed himself from the table and rose to his feet, the flash of steel catching Ichigo's eyes as a leather bound hilt appeared from the folds of Brom's cloak.

Ichigo sat in silence, his mouth open to speak when a great crash echoed outside, the entire cottage shaking to the foundation as a great roar bellowed out. Ichigo seemed unconcerned but Brom… Brom looked as if he had seen an angel, eyes wide in wonder and awe. Slowly, Ichigo watched as the old man moved to the window, his shoulders loose and at ease once Ichigo was sure they caught sight of the large black dragon. And like a clear morning light… Verndari broke the silence between Dragon and Rider.

'_So has the old one managed have to drag you out of bed yet or do I have to roar louder little one?' _Verndari asked mockingly, his roars having subsided into deep growls and barks that Ichigo swiftly recognized as laughter. Both from within his mind… and from outside the cottage, the windows rattling with the force of Verndari's chuckling.

Ichigo scoffed and crossed his arms, moving towards his room to grab his gear. '_Ha, very funny you damn overgrown lizard,_'Ichigo said sarcastically rolling his eyes,_ 'I'm gonna remember this little stunt next time you want to go hunting with me in the Spine,' _Ichigo proclaimed threateningly as he donned his cloak and armor; summoning Zangetsu and strapping the two blades across his back. At last Ichigo drew forth his hood, a feeling of comfort overcoming the young man as his face was bathed in shadow once more. Armored boots echoed through the room as he walked, Ichigo moving past Brom without a second glance as he picked up a signature similar to Verndari's not too far to the north.

'_Gotcha,'_ he thought with a smirk as he moved down the steps, the morning air crisp and clear. Ichigo felt the chill of the winter air across his face and fingers, but was unconcerned. He had dealt in harsher conditions before. Verndari was currently lounging beside the cottage, his red and black wings folded against his body as wisps of smoke drifted from his mouth and nostrils.

"By the gods of this earth," a voice whispered behind him and Ichigo turned to see Brom looking upon Verndari like a blind man being able to see the sun for the first time. Ichigo watched the aged man approach the resting dragon, Verndari's eyes never leaving the man as he drew near. Ichigo crossed his arms and watched as Brom circled the black dragon, recounting things and features he noticed more to himself than to Ichigo.

"Talons nicely curved," Brom noted as he looked the dragon from head to talon. "Legs, toned and strong," he said with a grin as Verndari released a heavy growl as he watched Brom. "Finely proportioned, a little shorter in the neck than what I have heard but overall," Brom said with hands on his staff and appraising the dragon with a fine eye. "All in all, a fine young dragon."

"And one day, strong enough to ride," Brom said with a bright grin, as Ichigo watched and prepared to move to the odd signature he felt and kept track of a few months ago. Ichigo chuckled, catching Brom's eyes as the young man moved through the light snow and coming to a rest near Verndari's right foreleg.

"Now who's to say," Ichigo began with a conspiratorial grin as he looked back at the old storyteller. "I haven't already?" he quipped as he quickly dashed up Verndari's leg, the leather boots undamaged by the razor scales that made the natural armor the dragon bore, pumping reiatsu into his veins as Ichigo activated his Blut while falling to sit comfortably in the space between Verndari's spines. The great dragon soon rose to his feet, trekking along gauged upon earth and stone as he moved towards the larger open space near the side of the cabin.

'_So, where are we going little one?' _Verndari asked, curiosity flashing through the bond as the dragon looked back to gaze at his Rider. A dark amber eye gazing upon the young man with curiosity and excitement, at last being able to share such a profound event with his partner-of-heart-and-mind. Their first real flight, as Dragon and Rider.

'_North, I sensed a presence I haven't felt __since __Urû'baen dwelling within the foot of the Spine.' _Ichigo said, ensuring that the sheathes housing his blades weren't grinding along the scales of Verndari's back, activating his Blut to ensure his legs weren't ground to shreds by the rough and wicked sharp scales. He had seen what happened to a tree when Verndari had begun marking the area around the cabin as his territory, as a means to prevent random hunters from tracking any game this far into the mountains. It was a fate he had no intention of bestowing upon himself anytime soon. He had nearly released the lunch he had that morning as he pictured the much sturdier tree being replaced by two very soft human legs. Not a pretty sight that.

Brom looked at Ichigo as if the young man was crazy, and seemed prepared to shout out in warning as Ichigo scooted forward to grab the single spine directly in front of him without a grunt of pain or discomfort. This baffled the old man, before the old storytellers hawk like eyes noticed the slight blue glow surrounding Ichigo's skin as lines began to come into view through the sheer volume of reiatsu coursing through his blood.


	2. Chapter 2: Carvahall and preparations

**To answer a reviewer's question in regards to the appearance of Zangetsu, the smaller blade looks like Sting from Lord of the Rings, perhaps a little wider and longer along the length of the actual blade, and the larger blade looks like Anduril from the Return of the King film except with some additions and a hollowed portion near the crossguard of the larger blade where the elvish script would have begun.**

**And here we go!**

* * *

A few days had passed since Ichigo had travelled into the Northern half of the Spine Mountains, at last putting to rest his suspicions of another Rider being in Carvahall at seeing the large blue colored mass that had flown along the mountain winds with the grace and nobility found only in the rest of Verndari's kind.

Yet it was here and now, entrenched in the last snow fall of a harsh winter that Ichigo cursed himself for not realising that danger had been closer than he thought.

"Come on dammit we gotta move!" Ichigo cried as he continued to help haul the hastily constructed sled through the knee deep snow, glancing at the weary and bloodied form of Eragon, Son of None as they tried to get Eragon's uncle Garrow back to Carvahall. The two teens were at first unrelenting as they trudged along through the newest layer of unmarked snow and ice. Yet as the journey dragged on, Ichigo slowly became forced to carry more and more of the burden between them as Eragon began to succumb to a set of harsh wounds upon his legs and his arms.

The ripped and bloodied pants were Ichigo's first clue, and alongside the blackened extremities and features the Soul Reaper could only assume that the younger man had actually been digging through what was almost certainly a still scorching hot wreckage of embers and lumber that had once been the family farm to try and find Garrow. Despite the grave risk it presented to himself. But things were far more pressing at the moment, as the two drew slowly closer to the village.

Blood and ash trailed behind them like a river as Eragon panted heavily in exhaustion beside Ichigo; the aftereffects of shock and pain in the younger man's system finally beginning to set in. Ichigo had recognized the wounds on the brown haired boy's legs easily enough from the amount of times he had seen Verndari rub his scales along the bark of a tree, and could only wince in sympathy every time the boy took a step forward and more blood ran down his legs. Ichigo shuddered gently as he imagined just what it would do to him if he had much less resilient skin and no Blut to protect himself. Yet he saw how the wounds were trying to scab over from the cold but the constant movement was only doing more harm than good. Eragon would sport those scars for the rest of his life, of that Ichigo was sure.

'_Dammit at this rate we're never going to make it to the village to save either of them!'_ Ichigo cursed in his head as he picked up the pace, Eragon trying to keep up until the orange haired teen quickly moved towards his companion and moved to lay the brown haired boy on the make shift sled alongside the grievously wounded Garrow.

"Wait! …Ichigo," Eragon slurred as he tried to reach out and grab his friend's arm, only to have his tired and burnt limb fall short as Eragon at last entered unconsciousness. Ichigo grimaced slightly as he grunted and grabbed the makeshift rope Eragon had fashioned for the sled and continued at a much faster pace, pumping reiatsu through his legs to help melt the snow and to boost the strength in his legs. Aggravated and slowly rising to being pissed off, Ichigo cursed and swore to himself; beyond frustrated that this was all he could do for the two. That for all his power, for all his conviction; when someone needed him most…he couldn't save them.

Not unless he was willing to condemn the entirety of Palancar valley to Galbatorix's scrutiny. And that was not something he was willing to do. He wouldn't doom these people, the very same who had taken him in and made him one of their own in such a short amount of time to the Black King… There was no way in hell he would have all of their deaths on his shoulders.

"Just hold on Eragon, I'm gonna get you out of this. I promise." Ichigo vowed as in the distance he spotted Brom fast approaching with some of the other villagers, blood caked to Brom's temple and running down to his beard as he came to a halt in front of Ichigo.

"What happened!?" Brom asked sharply, eyes narrowed and burning bright with such hate and fury that Ichigo nearly felt taken aback. Yet as he examined the older man's reiatsu signature and noticed the rather eerie similarity it had to Eragon's, Ichigo supposed he could understand why Brom was so panicked at the moment. But it was not his place to pry, for now at least.

"I was out hunting, thinking I might be able to catch some small game and stock up on furs when I saw smoke through the lower thickets and brush of the trees near the base of the mountain," Ichigo explained as the remainder of the apparent search party arrived and moved to grab a corner of the makeshift sled for themselves. Ichigo was glad to recognize each of their faces, nodding thankfully at Horst, the local blacksmith, his two sons Albriech and Baldor, and finally Byrd; one of the few good men in Ichigo's books in this world he now called home.

"What the hell were you doing hunting at this time of the year Ichigo?" Baldor asked with a grunt as he hefted the sled up high along with the others, each lowering it as gently as possible to lie steady on their shoulders as the group continued to the village at a much faster clip. Ichigo now paying close attention to how Brom had set himself close to Eragon's side and kept his eyes fixed ahead. Eventually turning back towards Baldor, Ichigo took a few seconds to formulate an answer as he examined the young man he called friend here in this strange land.

Baldor was just a few weeks shy of turning seventeen, with a wiry but broad and deceptively powerful frame hidden beneath a thick winter cloak and furs; possessing long locks of dark brown hair and near coal black eyes that spoke of honesty and warmth. Baldor was a good man, and a good friend to both Ichigo and Eragon, and was in fact the one who had welcomed Ichigo into Carvahall one evening after Ichigo had settled in the mountains and come down to the local tavern for some food. Something Ichigo was deeply grateful for, despite all the villagers' rumors about his attitude and his hair. Even in this universe people still gossiped and mocked him for his hair color.

"You can ask questions later Baldor, we need to get Eragon and Garrow to Gertrude first," Albriech huffed at the pair as Ichigo closed his mouth, shrugging at Baldor as the group quickened their feet as Garrow gasped for breath louder and louder while Eragon began to gently move about.

* * *

Ichigo sighed as he felt the heavy fabric of his cloak swirl about in the harsh winter wind, leaning against the wooden pillar that supported the overhang of Gertrude's hut in the center of Carvahall. The frayed hood flowing along gently in the crisp breeze as the chain attached to Zangetsu's hilt chimed in the wind behind him. The sound of the door opening echoed through the early morn, as Brom moved to stand beside Ichigo; gazing out into the mountains as silence settled between them.

"Neither of the dragons were discovered if that's what you're worrying about story teller," Ichigo said at last as he moved to place his partially gloved hands on the banister as he looked out over his new home. "Eragon's dragon vanished into the Northern areas of the Spine once I and Verndari got within a few miles of the farm. Verndari stopped at the edge of the forest and headed south after he left me there. He's probably waiting for me on the lowest bluff leading into open ground near the cabin."

Brom looked at him oddly for a second, until the old man grew a small smirk on his lips and shook his head as he leant upon his wooden stave. "Always straight to the point of the matter aren't you boy?" he asked with a wry tone, Ichigo only smirking in response as he looked at the older man and his eyes flashed to iridescent blue.

"I've always tackled my issues head on, why would talking to people be any different?" the teen asked rhetorically as Brom only laughed and drew out his pipe; swiftly lighting the packed tobacco leaves with a pulse of what Ichigo sensed to be diluted reiatsu. Ichigo felt his eyes narrow at the little display, only to see Brom wink at him mischievously before the older man went on his way, humming a merry tune under his breath as he headed for his home near the outskirts of the main village.

"Tch," Ichigo scoffed as he shook his head wryly, "Why is it always the old men that dress oddly who are the ones with the secrets to tell?" he asked himself as he moved towards the hut door, gently entering the small home as the crackle of a healthy fire and the gentle rock of a chair upon wood entered his ears.

The home was packed from floor to ceiling with all manner of herbs, books, old wooden furniture, furs and eccentricities that Ichigo always found it amazing that Gertrude, the local healer could find anything in this mess. But he supposed it gave the home a certain feel to it, one that seemed to ease the patients and the ancient woman the village called their doctor as the earthy aroma of the herbs and the home itself after all these years. But it was the young man situated on the floor by the fire that drew Ichigo's attention, as Eragon shone with a pale sheen as cold sweat beaded his brow and his body rattled and shook with every breath.

Moving silently, Ichigo knelt down by his friend, eyes hard but shining with concern as he sensed the fluctuating spirit energy within the teen trying to repair his battered body. Yet as he delved deeper, Ichigo was able to sense another flicker of foreign reiatsu flowing through Eragon and when he found the source of it, being a familiar oval shaped mark on his friend's right hand, he couldn't help but sigh in exasperation and defeat.

"Looks like we've both been dragged into something way over our heads before we were ready, eh Eragon?" the young Dragon Rider said morbidly as he crouched there next to his wounded friend and the soothing warmth of the fire. All while Gertrude sat behind them in silence, a keen look in her twinkling eyes as Ichigo reached into his cloak and placed a small object in the younger boy's hand, before nodding once and turning abruptly to face her.

* * *

Ichigo quietly closed the door behind him as he turned and pulled his hood up, sighing as he entered the streets and moved through Carvahall with his head lightly bowed. His features once more shrouded in shadow as his feet trod the path towards Horsts' home; which had been built upon the hills overlooking the river near the village outskirts. The young man's mood was frayed and weary after he had exchanged a few words with Gertrude; successfully managing to cover his wounded friend's tracks in regards to the wounds Eragon possessed that ran along his inner thighs. No doubt received from riding his dragon without a proper saddle, or the benefits of Blut Vein. Ichigo had also hesitantly asked about Garrow, and the news he received weighed upon his heart like a stone chained to his neck.

Garrow was dying, slowly to be sure…but the older man's demise was there on the horizon, of that there was no doubt in the old healer's mind. The situation was altogether disheartening, and Ichigo wished he could do more. But he wasn't meant to heal, that had always been his beloved's job. No… He was meant only to destroy… To wage war and ravage his enemies on the battlefield so that they could never endanger those he held close to his heart. He was a warrior… A protector. Yet it was times like this that the orange haired man managed to truly appreciate, and yes even envy the path his father had chosen so long ago when he had forsaken his powers to protect the woman he grew to love.

"Looks like you were the better man after all, huh pops?" the young man murmured under his breath as Horst's home came into view, taking a moment to appreciate the amount of time and skill Horst had put into the home. It was a two story building, with a shale roof that shadowed a railed balcony that extended from a tall window on the second floor. The hooded man's eyes found themselves drawn to the intricate carvings upon the bannisters and every frame; the light colored wood dominated with the images of serpent, harts, ravens, and knotted vines.

"Take a good look Ichigo," he murmured to himself quietly as the wind howled in his ears. "This is only part of what you're going to be fighting for…" he said softly, turning his head at a peculiar sound and then watching as Baldor and Albriech hauled supplies into the shed next to the stable; while he saw Horst working inside through the second floor window. "Might as well give them a hand," Ichigo mused with a smirk as he moved towards Baldor, who was struggling with a pile of lumber that was stacked awkwardly and threatened to fall on top of the young smith.

"Blasted piece of timbre!" Baldor cursed as he tried to maneuver a piece of cut lumber, trying to lift the pile long enough to retrieve it, only to nearly fall forward as the weight of the pile was suddenly lifted from his hands.

"What in the blazes?" he demanded with a mixture of heat and surprise, until he saw the cloaked figure of his orange haired friend standing beside him. Albriech, having seen the cloaked figure moving towards his little brother began running towards them as Ichigo held the pile up with but a single hand, the younger brother lightly astonished at the raw physical strength his friend actually possessed.

"Having a bit of trouble there Baldor?" Ichigo asked with a smirk as he casually held the lumber aloft, idly wiping some snow from his cloak with his left hand as Baldor gaped at his friend's raw strength. Seeing the odd look on his friends face Ichigo snorted as he reached out and grabbed the sole piece of timbre Baldor had been trying to pry free as he yanked it out with a sharp tug. "This what you were looking for?" he asked with a smirk as Albriech came to a stop beside him, grinning widely at the look on his brother's face.

"I can't say for sure Ichigo, though judging by the look plastered on Baldor's face I reckon you might be right," Albriech teased with a grin as he stopped beside the cloaked orange haired teen. Baldor it seemed had finally come back to his senses as glared at his brother, while Ichigo looked on with a smirk as he released the pile of lumber and stepped back as it landed with a great crash. This seemed to frighten the two other boys as they jumped back with their eyes wide as Ichigo only began to chuckle and moved towards their modest home.

"Come on you two, I don't think Horst is going to be all that pleased if you two stand there gawking all day." Ichigo teased as he moved through the snow, the two boys quick to follow after him.

Ichigo had only just opened the door when his smirk disappeared to be replaced by a light grin as Elain, Horst's wife walked forward and wrapped him in a swift hug. The petite woman was perhaps one of the kindest and yet most fierce woman Ichigo had ever met, with curls of honey blonde hair and warm dark brown eyes.

"Oh thank goodness you're alright Ichigo," she said once she released him, holding the tall orange haired man at arm's length as she examined him from head to toe. Ichigo barely supressed rolling his eyes as he looked down at the kind woman and gave her a small smile.

"You should have known by now Elain I'm more than able to take care of myself." Ichigo teased as Baldor and Albriech sniggered behind him and quickly quieted as their friend turned to give them a sharp glare.

A deep, strong voice spoke up then, the words full of mirth and meant to tease. "If that be the case boy then I suppose all the times me and my wife had to feed your cavernous stomach were all a lie then?"

Ichigo turned to see the massive form of Horst, the town blacksmith standing before him, a grin on his face and arms crossed across his broad chest. Ichigo only chuckled and scratched the back of his head sheepishly, the locks of spiked orange hair lightly covering his eyes as he propped his free hand on his hip.

"I suppose ya got me there Horst, although I do remember most of it not being free either," Ichigo shot back with a smirk, Albriech and Baldor laughing quietly as they moved further into the house to help their mother in the kitchen.

Horst only chuckled as he moved forward and placed his hands on Ichigo's shoulders, the calloused hands of the large blacksmith landing with a solid thump that would have rattled a man's teeth. Ichigo only grinned as he moved past, unaware of Horst's eyes shooting towards the hilt of his sword.

Yet the grin soon slipped from his face as Ichigo looked towards the kitchen and saw a large bucket filled with steaming water, a blood soaked rag lain upon the wood counter not a foot away as Baldor and Albriech fidgeted with some loaves of bread and a hunk of cheese. Elain, seeing the sad look in his eyes placed a soft hand upon his arm, gently leading him away and towards the table.

"How's Garrow?" he asked as they walked, the silence Elain gave him as her immediate answer gnawing at his stomach like a gnat, as he watched her grab a bowl and move back towards the kitchen.

"The fever won't break," Elain murmured gently as she placed a bowl of hot stew before Ichigo, a spoon held out to him as he took it with a soft nod of his head. "His wounds refuse to close no matter how many times they are cleaned or bandaged; and every night I hear his screams as he pleads with 'them,' to not take his boys." Elain gave Ichigo a soft look as she set herself down and laced her hands together. "I never thought I would see the day that Garrow would beg for anything to anyone… But to hear and see it now when the man is so close to the end… I shudder to think of what the two men who attacked the farm did to him."

"They won't get away with it."

Elain's head shot up quickly to stare at the young man seated beside her, surprise and horror evident in her eyes as she realized how serious he was. Ichigo only hardened his gaze as he ate away at the stew, clenching his fist as he pictured Zangetsu skewered through the gut of whoever did this. "I'm going to make sure of that."

"Don't forget about us."

Ichigo only sighed internally as he turned to look at his two friends, Baldor having crossed his arms across his chest while Albriech stood at his side. Elain looked utterly distraught at the notion, eyes wide and her mouth agape. The reaction however was something Ichigo knew was more than warranted in this situation. Drawing herself with all the fierce anger of a protective mother, Elain stared them all down as she rose to her feet and pointed at each of the boys.

"If any of you, aye you're included in this little lecture too Ichigo, think for a single blasted moment that I'm going to let you go gallivanting around Alagaësia hunting down the people responsible for this attack then I swear to the gods-"

"Let them be Elain."

Ichigo himself was rather surprised by Horst's sharp interruption, as did the blacksmith's wife and children it seemed. The large burly man was stone faced and straight-backed, something Ichigo remembered his father doing only once. Before the Thousand Year Blood War, where Isshin had to watch his own son be once again thrust into the role of Savior for the Soul Society. Horst stared only at his wife as he spoke, his words carrying a weight all too familiar to Ichigo's ears.

"They are men full grown Elain, and they can make choices for themselves." Horst exclaimed with a tilt of his head towards the three boys. "If that is their path then so be it, but we cannot shelter them for the rest of their lives love." Baldor and Albriech seemed more than pleased at the turn in their father's behaviour, yet Ichigo had a sly smirk as he knew that the tall man wasn't done yet.

"However…"

'_Man I'm on a roll today,'_ Ichigo thought with a roll of the eyes as he leaned back in his chair and looked up at Horst, noting out of the corner of his eyes the now dismayed looks on his two friends faces.

"Don't think I'm not going to let you two off without a lick of sense being knocked into those thick heads of yours if I have anything to say about it!" Horst said sternly as he gave his sons a pointed and fierce glare, the two boys withering under the intensity of it as Ichigo only chuckled at them.

* * *

"Are you two almost finished?" Ichigo yelled as he stood outside of Horst's shop, his two soon to be companions testing out a variety of weapons and armor their father had set aside for them to choose from before they set out on their journey. And while he was allowed the chance to think, Ichigo knew that he's have to come clean about some things. A lot of things. And it seemed he didn't have to wait long as the two men walked out of the forge, clad in cloaks of fine leather and carrying the weapons of their choice.

Albriech carried a broad, twin-headed axe; whose haft was near as tall as Albriech's torso. The massive weapon was slung across his back as the dark Damascus-steel blade stood out like an open flame against the fallen snow. Baldor carried a finely polished yew bow and a fully stocked leather quiver; the sturdy weapon held in his hand firmly as the smaller of the two men pulled up his hood; fiddling with the hilt of a large foot-and-a-half-length dagger hung at his waist. Ichigo only smirked at the two men, seeing the hesitance in their eyes as they seemed to look upon their weapons with a surreal disbelief.

"You two find everything alright?" he asked with a teasing grin, ducking his head with a laugh as Albriech swung at him with his gloved hand. Darting back Ichigo smirked as the taller of the two boys scowled at him.

"What's it look like to you eh?" Albriech asked sarcastically, Baldor rolling his eyes behind him as the three began to head for the outskirts of the village. "Where we goin' anyway Ichigo?" Albriech asked, shifting within his leathers and furs to rest more comfortably on his broad frame. "Cause I don't think for an instant Father or Mother are gonna let us leave right out of the blue eh?"

Ichigo only smirked and remained silent as the three moved further away from the village, the chain hanging form the pommel of his sword swaying gently in the wind as the young Dragon Rider felt Verndari brush against his mind through the bond.

'_You are bound and determined to go after the egg-breakers aren't you little one?' _the majestic beast asked knowingly, Ichigo smirking in response as he led the two village boys through the dark forest and towards the foot of the mountain.

'_Aye, but before that we need to tell them the truth… Or at least a version of it anyway,' _Ichigo said firmly, getting a gentle hum of acknowledgement from his dragon as Ichigo's keen senses picked up Verndari's spiritual pressure flying above them. _'God this is going to be a pain in the ass,' _Ichigo thought to himself as he led his two companions deeper into the dark of the mountain.

* * *

Baldor sighed heavily to himself as he inspected the small foyer in Ichigo's cabin, his curiosity once initially peaked at the prospect of seeing his elusive friends home quelled by the situation lain out before them. Dragon Riders, mythological beasts that roamed the earth, it was a fair amount to take in all at once. Baldor's cloak was currently wrapped tight around his body, the new bow he had claimed for himself now propped up against his knee as Ichigo left him and his brother alone in the foyer. Albriech himself was inspecting his new axe, a troubled look on his face as the sharp grind of stone to steel echoed through the room.

"Can't believe Ichigo kept this from us all this time…" Baldor heard his brother murmur, the blonde haired man utterly engrossed in the pattern of crashing waves lain within the cold steel as he took a whetstone to the razor edge. Desperate to wrap his mind around the path lain before him and his brother and the once clear image of their friend tarnished by the secrets Ichigo had revealed.

The two men were seated by the fireplace within the main room now, Baldor checking the fletching on the arrows he had taken to keep his mind focused and ensuring the bow wasn't cracked so as to prevent it from shattering in his hands.

"Aye," Baldor murmured in agreement as he leaned back and set down the freshly polished yew bow, drawing his knife and examining the razor edge that glinted almost maliciously in the light of the fire. "But we can't exactly blame him for what was already long done. After all, if we were in his position I doubt we'd have done anything different."

"Aye."

A sharp grunt caught the two men's attention, their heads whipping to the side as they stared wide eyed at their orange haired friend. A sharp scowl set on his face as his brown eyes glinted sharply from the flickering flame. Ichigo also had his arms crossed over his chest in annoyance with his two blades hung proudly on his back.

"You two done?" he asked sharply, a feeling of guilt settling in the two men's guts as they looked down from Ichigo's gaze. Seeing that no answer was forthcoming, Ichigo sighed in frustration as he moved towards the two. Standing beside them, Ichigo deftly raised up his hands and slapped the back their heads.

"GODS ABOVE!" Albriech cried out in pain as he leapt to his feet, hands pressed firmly against the back of his skull as he tried to alleviate the sharp burning he felt under his palms. Turning to look at Ichigo who now had a small grin on his face, Albriech pointed an accusatory finger at his friend and snarled at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing ya' bastard!"

"Getting your attention," Ichigo responded immediately, turning on his heel towards the cabin door as Albriech at last noticed that Ichigo was still clad in his armor. "Now get Baldor off the floor would you? We have some work to do if I'm to let you two follow me on this little hunt." And with that Ichigo opened the door and stepped out into the frigid day with Albriech and Baldor staring into his back in confusion. Yet the two acquiesced all the same, walking out to join their friend in the chilling winds that howled through the forest.

Baldor raised his arm to protect his face from the harsh wind, yet tears still fell from his eyes despite his efforts as the cold howl of the mountain air ravaged the land around the three men. _'It seems lady winter has not had her fill,' _he thought to himself, Albriech cursing beside him as he flailed about through the blistering wind.

Yet despite the cold and the tears that clouded their eyes, the black figure of their friend was unmistakeable, even in the pale glow of fading day; with the sun hung just above the crest of the trees. His back was to them, which confused them greatly as the two watched his orange locks blow in the wind without a care for the cold of winter's breath. The two shared a quizzical glance, eyes searching as they approached him, with Albriech reaching out an unsure hand. Until with a terrified cry and an utterly shocked look upon his face, was Albriech hauled forward and over Ichigo's shoulder in a single move. Albriech felt weightless for but an instant, eyes wide and filled with utter surprise before he was slammed unceremoniously into the snow flat on his back. He groaned out in pain as he lay in the cold snow, the shaft of the axe he now carried digging into his skin and sure to leave a healthy bruise come the morn. His hand he noted was held firmly in Ichigo's grasp, while Baldor watched on stupefied as Albriech continued to groan in pain and annoyance.

"B-Bastard!" he wheezed, scowling darkly as he heard his brother begin to laugh at him from the side, yanking his hand free and rolling onto his stomach before he gently pushed himself to his knees. "What the hell was that for anyway?" Albriech demanded hotly as he looked up at Ichigo, who simply crossed his arms and grinned wickedly. The action alone sent a chill of utter despair down the backs of the two men as a cold sweat began to bead upon their brows.

"You two want in on this little hunt of mine, then you need to be able to keep up with me," Ichigo explained simply with a grin, yet this did little to ease the two villagers form Carvahall. Which was further destroyed as Ichigo continued with an almost crazed glee. "So for the next month as we wait for the snow to melt and for Eragon to get up off of his lazy arse, I'm going to beat you both into the ground day and night to see if you have what it takes to follow through on your vow to kill the bastards that did this."

Verndari had been sleeping peacefully when he had heard his partner-of-heart-and-mind begin to speak to the other two-legs, opening his eyes the black dragon began to release a wheezing, baritone laugh from deep in his chest as he sensed the fear and anxiety from his partner's two friends.

'_At least they will not have to meet White One and Old One in Black…' _the mighty beast thought with a laugh, lowering his head to rest upon his forelimbs to sleep once more as he heard the familiar clash of steel rise through the trees and the darkness of the mountain.

* * *

_Three Weeks Later…_

Ichigo felt his eyes narrow as he drew Zangetsu from the sheathe strapped to his back, the hand-a-half handed blade as black as the pit itself as the light of the sun seemed to die on its edge. Ichigo felt a sense of warmth surge through his body as he held his sword in his hand once more, the chain chiming softly in the wind as the chilled winter air surged around him. Yet even now he could feel the warmth of spring in the air, the melted snow around his feet proof enough to those with a good set of eyes. He had discarded his cloak some time ago, his two opponents circling him warily as they waited in the small clearing outside the front of his cabin, while their audience watched on in amusement and disbelief.

His two friends had come far in the past three weeks under his tutelage, their bodies tempered and their minds sharp as he drove them to the ground time and again to prepare them for the path lain out before them.

Albriech breathed smoothly as he readjusted his grip upon his axe, the massive twin headed weapon gleaming maliciously in the light of the rising sun as he stalked along the smooth ground of the clearing. His hair had grown long in the three weeks of his training, tied back into a ponytail by a leather cord to keep his eyes free of obstacles. He now sported a small beard, trimmed and neat that made his broad form all the more daunting. Even then his physique was far more heavily muscled than it had been last winter, built and refined from the hours of training on the slopes of the Spine with his friend while coupled with the extra work he and his brother had taken to doing in their father's forge.

Baldor himself had grown well under the watchful tutelage of his friend. His physique now a wiry, lean musculature that often times made others mistake him for more than the son of a smith. It was indeed one better suited for speed and agility, while still capable of mighty physical strength rather than being built to withstand blow after blow and trading them back and forth like his brother. His hair had been cut short with the back only falling to the nape of his neck; face clean shaven and planed as the excess baby fat he had once carried had melted away to reveal the rugged man underneath. Which, he noted dryly as he kept pace with his brother and knocked back his arrow and aimed it at Ichigo, had caused many of the village girls, and even some of the older women to give both him and his brother more attention than ever before.

Before it had always been Roran who had had the best luck with girls, both with the daughters of the traders when the caravans came through and the village beauty Katrina herself. Ichigo when he had dared to come down from the mountain was met with much the same enthusiasm, leaving both Baldor and his brother rather wanting when it came to attention from the fairer sex.

Yet now it was more an annoyance, as now his every step was scrutinized and more and more often village girls would wait around the back of the forge and watch him and his brother as they worked. Ichigo had taken great joy in teasing the two of this little fact, the trio now surrounded by women from the village when they visited the local tavern during the three weeks, as the two young men became utterly lost and confused when talking to those of the fairer complexion.

Yet refocusing on the matter at hand Baldor breathed evenly as he maintained his draw on the bow, the fletching tickling his cheek as he and his brother continued to circle their teacher and friend. He eyed the massive blade warily, his past experience in watching the blade be used to deflect and shield Ichigo against his arrows all too fresh in his mind. Yet with a sudden cry from his brother, Baldor released the arrow and charged forward, drawing his knife in hopes that the two men might be able to overcome their friend and teacher.

Ichigo only smirked wickedly as the two drew near, his blade moving as if it were made of nothing but air to intercept the arrow flying for his skull. With a piercing clang the iron head of the arrow shattered like glass against the surface of Zangetsu, a menacing and excited cackle echoing within Ichigo's head as the young orange haired man spun. His black blade slicing through the air with a sharp whistle that came to a sudden halt as it crashed against the massive blade of Albriech's axe, sparks flying for a split moment as the two locked blades. Yet Ichigo feeling Baldor charging at his exposed back leaned to the side as he heard Baldor lunge, the knife held in his friends hand gleaming wickedly as Ichigo used his free hand to push Baldor away and then Ichigo lifted his foot and slammed it into Albriech's stomach.

The two men were unperturbed by the defense, Albriech quickly tightening the muscles in his abdomen to lessen the possible damage from Ichigo's kick, the blow only able to push him back a few feet through the muck and earth while Baldor used the momentum from Ichigo's push to spin and lance out with a kick that almost clipped Ichigo's nose.

Ichigo leaned back to avoid the attack, bringing up Zangetsu into a guard as Albriech swung the axe once more, the orange haired man able to push the man off with ease as he dashed forward and unleashed his own strikes. The echo of smashing steel rang out through the clearing as the two men traded fierce blows back and forth, Ichigo smirking the entire time as Albriech felt sweat bead at his brow.

'_I knew that Ichigo was beyond human,' _Albriech thought hurriedly as he ducked low to avoid a sudden slash at his head, only to grunt in pain as he felt Ichigo's knee slam into his stomach and the pitch black blade of his friend smash into the axe held in the young smiths hands. _"But this is absolutely unreal!' _

Yet unknown to two of the three, Brom stood watching from the trees, eyes wide in disbelief before they were narrowed into a fierce glare. Striding forward, the old storyteller snarled loudly as he watched Baldor prepare to launch another arrow at Ichigo.

"You damn rat-addled fools! What in the blazes do you think you're doing?" he demanded hotly, the two village boys stopping dead in their tracks as they stared at Brom in surprise, while Ichigo only rolled his eyes in annoyance and propped Zangetsu on his right shoulder.

"What's it look like to you old man?" he asked sarcastically, as the other two watched the Dragon Rider and the village's storyteller stare each other down. "I was in the middle of trying to whip these two into fighting shape, until somebody with a smoking problem decided it would be a brilliant idea to interfere."

Brom scowled darkly as he moved to face Ichigo, the elder man still lightly surprised at the height, and all-consuming aura of power he sensed from the young leader of the Dragon Riders. Brom was able to disguise it rather quickly however, as he began to berate the young man in earnest as his anger took hold.

"Don't be a fool boy!" the old storyteller whispered harshly, eyes flashing in anger and something else that Ichigo could barely distinguish as Brom poked Ichigo in the chest. "Too many people have _died_ to ensure you could exist! And now thousands more wait for you to reach the Varden in one piece so as to aid them in their struggle against the King. And I'll be struck blind, deaf and willingly become an addle-minded fool before I let you get yourself killed because of a training incident! Now that you're a Dragon Rider, you think you're invincible! It doesn't work like that boy!"

Brom's last words echoed throughout the training field as the crows screeched and the animals fled form the fury held within them. Ichigo however said not a word, he simply stared the old man down with a fierce glare of his own; hard brown eyes glinting with a fire that shook Brom to his core as Ichigo lifted Zangetsu from his shoulder and slammed it tip first into the earth.

"Don't think that just because you know about my dragon I'm not going to beat your ass black and blue old man for trying to cut in on something you wouldn't understand," Ichigo said sharply, hands at his sides and his reiatsu flaring wildly. Brom, despite his hard scowl and fierce temper felt his eyes go wide as he tried to withstand the sudden weight that began to press down upon him like a cart full of stones. His knees began to shake and his brow became slick as he stared into the orange haired man's glowing eyes.

"But if you don't think I'm ready then by all means draw your sword and I'll show you just how wrong you are old man," Ichigo demanded, drawing Zangetsu up to rest on his shoulder once more as a faint blue aura surrounded his body.

"What are you talking about-?" Brom started to ask until his instincts blared to life with the force of a cannon, eyes wide as he launched himself to the side and drew the sheathed sword from his hip. Open mouthed and struck silent Brom felt a faint shiver race up his back at the sight of Ichigo slamming Zangetsu into the earth with such tremendous strength that it caused the point of impact to rumble and crack. Brom felt his grip tighten anxiously upon the cool, leather wrapped hilt of his blade; the silver blade glinting wickedly as Brom then watched stupefied as Ichigo simply vanished into thin air with a gust of wind.

"What in the blazes?!" Brom cried out in alarm, until the hairs on the back of his neck stood tall and he felt a sharp point press onto the juncture between his spinal column and skull. Brom froze in place as the sharp sting of steel poking into his skin shot through his body, until the cold steel of the blade was removed. Turning his head Brom could only stare at the blank, and unimpressed expression of Ichigo Kurosaki.

"Is that all you got?" Ichigo asked coldly with a bored look on his face, idly inspecting Zangetsu's blade as Brom slowly rose to his feet, the blade still pressed into the back of the older man's neck as he turned and eyed the younger man warily.

"Cause if it is, then this is going to be easier than I thought," Ichigo remarked as he lunged forward, the sharp clang of steel echoing through the field as Brom managed to raise his blade in a sloppy parry, shoving the black blade aside. Yet his accomplishment was short lived as Brom was then quickly forced to throw up his blade into a guard, as the blade of his foe smashed into his own.

The old man felt surprise flash through him as he struggled to push the boy away, yet he had little time to reflect on it as the orange haired man began to move like lightning itself, lashing out at Brom's side in the blink of an eye with a thrust that would have skewered the man had he not managed to dodge to the side in time. Again and again every stroke of the boy's blade pushed Brom back, the aged man utterly focused simply on surviving the encounter as the two other men and the mighty dragon watched on in silence. Until Baldor stuck out his hand towards Albriech and spoke.

"Ten crowns on Ichigo."

"You're utterly daft if you think I'm taking such a stupid bet Baldor."

"Can't blame a bloke for trying."

Ichigo kept his expression tightly fixed as he pressed the advantage, twirling his blade in his right hand as he ducked beneath a sharp thrust from Brom before he stepped forward and launched his clenched fist into the older man's gut. Holding back on his considerable strength, Ichigo was rewarded by a heavy thud and whoosh of air as Brom was shoved back a few feet from the strike. The old man's hand soon found its way to his abused stomach, his breathing erratic as his fell to his knees and his sword was used to prop himself upright.

"Have I proven my point old man?" Ichigo asked as he quirked his brow and placed Zangetsu back in the sheath strapped to his back. Crossing his arms, Ichigo watched as Brom uttered a few words in a near silent whisper and flared his spiritual energy, quirking his brow in confusion as Brom then removed his hand from his side and seemed to breathe easier.

Brom breathed deeply in order to lessen the pain lancing through his body, feeling his magic course through his body as he tried to heal himself. The boy's strength was monstrous, on par with even some of the elves that Brom had met through his very long, and troubled life. Not to mention that the boy's skill with a blade was simply extraordinary, and perhaps even greater than Brom himself if he was right in that the boy had held back considerably during the little dressing down he had given the old man.

Noticing the hand now held in front of his face, Brom looked up to the sharp gaze of Ichigo Kurosaki as the young man smirked crookedly at the old storyteller, looking between the old man and his hand as the sun set hung overhead and splahed upon the gree of the trees. Chuckling harshly but with mirth clear on his face, Brom firmly clasped Ichigo's hand wiht his own and was easily helped to his feet by the younger man with a shapr tug. Releasing a soft chuckle Brom clasped the boy on the shoulder and propped his blade at his side as he felt hope for the first itme in decades burn in his chest like a tremendous flame.

"Indeed you did lad… Indeed you did."

* * *

**I am alive and kicking people! And now that I have winter break I will try and update as well as post some other stories I've been working on as often as possible until January 4th.**

**Until then, later!**


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